Lunchtime with the Thoracic Threesome. Mikey and Jill make ham-handed attempts to comfort Barto about his plummeting virility. "I'm deeply unhappy," says Barto. "You've got to account for the pressure -- it's bound to bring a man down," Mikey says. "Figuratively speaking," he adds, uproariously. "Drink eggs!" Jill exhorts, before tapering off into incoherent mumbles. Barto asks what his next step should be and his bachelor brethren invoke "medication" and "health insurance coverage." "Oh my God!" Barto spazzes, "Just kill me now, please!" "What did Audrey say?" Jill asks. Barto hisses, "She said, 'Oh, baby, I love when you do that to me' -- WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK SHE SAID?" Clearly, Barto's last batch of weed was laced with some street-grade PCP. Jill cajoles him into admitting she said it was cute, and they all groan with empathetic emasculation. Barto says something about figuring this out alone and Mikey recycles some dialogue from Young, Hard and Solo, saying, "Good idea. A little alone time never hurts. Just to get it working again, you know?" He illustrates by making the universal "wanking" hand gesture. "It works!" says Barto, a little protest-too-muchly, "It works." He storms out, leaving Jill and Mikey to say, respectively, "Ow!" and "Glad it ain't me."
Ferret struts around her bedroom, chanting, "I'm not gonna think about sex." She decides to watch some TV and proceeds to straddle the bed, grabbing the remote with frightening fervor. But sadly, Ferret's satellite dish responds only to signals from Skinemax. Every channel coughs up six degrees of copulation, causing Ferret to curl up in a fetal ball on her duvet cover. Barto, meanwhile, is having a soothing cup of tea with his laptop and trusty skeleton, Mr. Bones. Maybe that's why he can't get it up with Ferret anymore -- he's a real gone necrophiliac, and a monogamous one at that! Just give me some slack, here. I've got to take my jokes where I can find them. At any rate, Mikey struts in in his habitual Champion leisure-wear and says, "I brought ya something I thought might -- ya know, help." He displays the cover of a magazine that appears to be called "Play Pen," but I can't be sure because the second word is ripped off. "Get. Out. Of here," Barto says wrathfully, but Mikey smirks and drops the magazine on the table in front of him and says, "You got it!" with a double thumbs-up, as if he expects Barto to drop trou and start pleasuring himself the second he leaves. Barto acts bothered, then starts flipping listlessly through the magazine just as the phone rings. He says, "Hello," in a Spice Channel baritone before realizing it's his mom on the line.